


When It Crumbles

by Not_affiliated_with_SHUSH



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991)
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Seduction, Self-Insert, Semi-Slow Burn, Sexual Content, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover Missions, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:33:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_affiliated_with_SHUSH/pseuds/Not_affiliated_with_SHUSH
Summary: You're a S.H.U.S.H. agent infiltrating F.O.W.L..This would be nice and easy if it weren't for their chief agent, a dangerously suave rooster, coming for your mission, your heart and the lines between good and evil that you so neatly laid out for yourself.Reader is a female bird, technically based on my OC, but I decided to keep it more neutral. So she won't be named.It's like a Greek tragedy where the hero is doomed by their own hubris. Also, there's Steelbeak romance, which none of the Greek tragedies I know of feature, so I'm clearly the winner here.
Relationships: Steelbeak (Disney)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Icebreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a S.H.U.SH. agent, infiltrating F.O.W.L. to steal some intel. Not that your bosses know of htis mission, much less greenlit it. As luck would have it, you bump into Steelbeak on your very first day and to keep your cover, are forced to join him for a heist.

_This is a good idea_ , you assure yourself, staring at yourself in the mirror.

All that looks back is an unsuspecting Eggman.

_Great, even._

You feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, that these visors are tinted and you don't have to see the doubt in your reflection's eyes.

What you're doing is right and necessary.

It's simple: F.O.W.L. are the bad guys. They're evil. Fiendish. Thieves. It's literally right in their name. 

And S.H.U.S.H. are the good guys. You are one of the good guys. Good versus evil, simple and straightforward. 

It's just that the good guys tend to get swept up in the red tape. S.H.U.S.H. is an unwieldy behemoth that gets in its own way more often than not, whereas you're reasonably sure that F.O.W.L. doesn't bother with files and forms at all.

So you've decided to tip the scales a little.

You're a S.H.U.S.H. agent, well, basically.

Fresh out of training, a fledgling agent. Grizzlikov insists that you're one of the most promising recruits they've had in a long time. But there are procedures that need to be observed and rules to be followed to the letter. Apparently, you can't let a fledgling get out there and battle the evils of the world. Instead, they condemn them to sorting dusty files in sticky cabinets.

You've been out of training for six months and the three only missions you've been on so far were practically errands. It's a joke, really. A highly trained agent picking up paper and getting sent on coffee runs for the big shots who are trapped in their corner offices with a nice view - or the less big shots equally trapped in their cubicles - typing away and filling out forms. There's hardly any time to save the world when you have stacks of paper to chew through first.

It makes you dread getting promoted from copying blank forms to having to fill them with such extensive detail.

Rules are rules, yes, but there's evil to be vanquished.

Shockingly enough, S.H.U.S.H. seems to know exactly where the enemy is located. Thanks to the reports of a deep cover agent, one Femme Appeal, whose reports folder you accidentally dropped while handling it and briefly glanced over the papers spilling out. It contained detailed notes on the location and equipment of a base out in the mountains. One of their headquarters near St. Canard, no doubt. You spent a long time sitting on the floor, holding these notes.

S.H.U.S.H. knew where to strike and chose to just - not do it. They could have wiped this stain from the face of the Earth and just - didn't.

You knew what you had to do then. You were going to show them how to do it. Start a new era for S.H.U.S.H..

So you took some notes, called in sick today and drove out to the mountain base. You found an entrance where enough Eggmen were buzzing about, busy like bees, so you slipped in undetected. Near the henchman entrance, thankfully enough, were various large locker rooms with rows of spare uniforms on clothing hangers lined up near the walls.

It really reminded you of how those people were just hired muscle. Punch in in the morning, do villainous stuff all day and go back home at night. Though it made you wonder, what kind of lives these people would lead. You can't imagine that F.O.W.L. would give them a lot of free time, exactly. Nor pay well, though they seem to have that much in common with S.H.U.S.H., at least.

One quick change later, you are virtually indistinguishable from your garden variety Eggman. Eggwoman? Eggette? Regardless, just another mask in the crowd.

Your own genius makes you giggle.

Now all that's left to do is snoop around, gather some incriminating data, maybe sabotage a theft or two and show the slowpokes at S.H.U.S.H. how to fight crime effectively.

You'd think Darkwing Duck and the success of his unorthodox approach, which Director Hooter always praises, after all, would lead to more agents adopting these methods. Maybe they're just waiting for a brave trail blazer.

When a few Eggmen come through, you quickly join them. One lonely henchman might attract unwanted attention and you don't know where anything is, after all. They don't take notice and neither does anyone else as you follow the small group. You all squeeze into an elevator and descend further into the den of evil. You keep your eyes open and look around, while also not losing track of the three Eggmen you're trying to keep up with. 

The largest one almost gets stuck when you have to squeeze through a very narrow corridor that's more like a larger crack in the rock. Bare lightbulbs dangling from the ceiling, their flickering combined with the moisture radiating off the naked stone wall your uniform nearly catches on makes your heart race. This claustrophobic experience is followed by a few normal-looking hallways, like you'd find in any random office building, so you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you'd held. 

Reminding yourself that this base is located in a hollowed out mountain when you see a few patches of rock shimmering through the tilework and white plated walls and floors.

Despite all those impressions hitting you and while you also try to keep a mental map of the path you've taken and the things you've seen so far, a surely hopeless endeavor, you manage to stick with your group.

  
Then you leave the office hallway into a massive hall that bright light shines into, which leaves you nearly blind. _Then_ you realize it's positively crawling with Eggmen and you nearly lose track of your group, hadn't it been for one of them grabbing your arm and giving you a brief tug. You thank him under your breath and he just nods.

They're walking faster now and you have to take bigger steps in turn.

Still, this place is incredible. 

Sterile-looking white walls, a floor you can actually see a dull reflection in and bright neon lights in the ceiling that is far, far above you. Shining down on all manners of weapons and vehicles standing around, with hundreds of Eggmen weaving in between them. It's like an ant colony. Looking up, just under the ceiling that is again bare rock, there are windows. Offices, you suppose. Since they overlook this, what you suppose is a garage, they must be for the higher ups. This is where the F.O.W.L. agents are positioned, you just know it. This is where you need to get.

That's where you can find your Ample Grime, your Mayor Synapse, your Ammonia Pine, your-

Too busy staring up at the offices protruding from the wall behind them, overlooking the whole mess like a box in a theater, you don't notice the Eggman in front of you stopping and bump into him. Fortunately, you are quick to regain your composure and step right beside him, so you're standing in line with the others who have stopped as well. 

Now, what mayor player in the game did you forget about, oh right. 

"Huh, that's weird. I only ordered five Eggmen. One of youse clearly doesn't know how to count."

_Steelbeak._

Your suit suddenly feels very damp and that's not just because the material doesn't breathe. At all.

Of course you'd run into him on your first day.

You curse your luck, but force yourself to stand straight and not attract any unwanted attention.

Since you just attached yourself to these three Eggmen previously, there is now six of you standing in line, in one of the quieter areas of the garage-room. It's much less crowded here and you can actually breathe.

Well, you could, but Steelbeak is standing right in front of you, checking every single one of you out with narrowed eyes. 

Sure, you'd read about him. Seen him on file photos and wanted pictures. But it's one thing to see the mugshot of a man that might say he's 6"3, 7 ft counting the comb, but a whole other thing to suddenly have him standing right in front of you.

Steelbeak has an incredible presence. Broad-shouldered, broad-chested, tall, surrounded by an air of authority, the kind of person who knows he's a big deal and wears it like a crown. Sunlight reflects of his beak and you are once again grateful for the tinted glass on your visor. You allow yourself to be briefly impressed by his suit and how well it, well, suits him. Neat as a pin.

"Whatever", he finally decides, "just get in."

Obediently you follow the other five into a weirdly egg-shaped vehicle that has the F.O.W.L. logo very visible on the side. You have half a mind to tell him that this isn't exactly the best way to stay undercover, but the other half of your mind scooches on its knees and begs you not to do something that will so obviously get you killed, or at the very least put you in the way of bodily harm.

Eggmen are a dime a dozen and those who don't pay their superiors the proper respect get scrambled.

You suddenly feel very, very sorry for them.

One of your new coworkers gets behind the wheel and you hear the engine roar.

There's six seats in the back and the layout of the egg car truck has you briefly remember that day in elementary you got to sit in a firetruck. 

Glancing around you note that your four coworkers immediately took sat down and the only free seat is right next to Steelbeak. Great. Of course.

Desperate to avoid suspicion, you slide into the free seat and hold very, very still.

Fortunately, he pays you absolutely no mind.

When the egg-car gets going, you tense every muscle to avoid sliding in your seatbelt-less position and bump into the chief agent whose presence alone threw a massive wrench into your plans.

If he finds you out, you're super dead, so maybe you should cut back on the sabotage.

_Just try to be a normal henchman for today, maybe you can get some intel on future heists out of him or the others and then pass those on to S.H.U.S.H.,_ a voice in the back of your head tells you. You recognize it as the one that got you in this mess in the first place.

_Infilitrate F.O.W.L.,_ it said. _It'll be easy,_ it said.

_Get close to him. Get deep under cover and get close to the chief agent. That should absolutely show Hooter and Grizzlikov,_ it whispers seductively and you agree immediately.

This is still a great plan.

Be a good henchman, help Steelbeak do whatever the heck he's doing today, don't get discovered, ????, success.

It's very easy.

Then you notice he's looking at you.

Well, maybe not you, specifically. Your hands, with which you are clinging to your seat. It's like a bowl for your butt. Slippery. Your knuckles are white and you realize you squeezed all blood out of your fingers.

"Sorry", you mutter and force yourself to relax. Release your death grip. Rub your tingling fingers.

"Alright, how many of you are new recruits?", he asks. He looks annoyed, maybe. Definitely not too happy.

Two of the three you followed raise their hands and, zeroing in, you realize they're also looking kind of tense. One of them is the one who pulled you along and you feel yourself crack a slight smile.

This is still absolutely salvagable.

Steelbeak groans, half under his breath. "Of course I get to babysit the rookies." Then he raises his voice again to speak to his entire heist crew. "What we're doin' today is very simple. It's a walk in the park, really. Bit of a joke. All we's doing is steal a painting from the museum. It's closed for renovations, so all we gotta do is get rid of the people doin' the renovatin'. Then grab the thing and get outta there."

One of the Eggmen on the other side of the car raises his hand. "I'm sorry, what painting are we looking for, exactly?"

As Steelbeak gets up and approaches the lone Eggman, the tension is palpable. The other two next to him inch away and the one who asked a question, one of the two newbies, shrinks visibly. Trying to occupy as little space as possible in his bowl.

"I'm _so glad_ you asked." There's a smile on his steel lips. "See, we at F.O.W.L. _always_ strive for a positive work environment and we try to keep things as open and transparent as possible for youse guys. So we really appreciate your questions."

The singled out Eggman, shaking like leaves, carefully looks up. There's hope in his body language. "Really?"

Steelbeak takes a moment to marvel at his reflection in the visor, before his fist comes crashing into the wall right next to the Eggman's head. He immediately deflates again.

"I was getting to that!", he snaps and you wonder, in between trying to keep calm, if he hurt his fist. Because the metal is dented where he hit the wall. 

He does rub his knuckles as he walks from the now sobbing Eggman to take his seat next to you again. You make sure to scoot to the side until you bump into the other Eggman next to you, who merely gives you a nondescript shrug.

That's how things are.

"They found a couple of Duck Vinci's old blueprints all glued together in one fancy frame a while ago. Rumor has it there's even more blueprints in the back - prints for a renaissance-era superweapon, even - but they're impossible to get to without damaging the frame or the other pictures. So all those scientists just called it a day and dropped the whole thing at the St. Canard Museum of Fine Arts. Now, whatever it is or if it's anything at all doesn't matter. What matters is that High Command wants to check it out for themselves. They want it, so we're gonna geddit. _Geddit_?" 

He leans very close to you. You can see your own visor reflected in his beak. Fortunately, your panicked expression does not shine through.

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

As he leans back, you're briefly distracted, trying to place the smell that just wafted over and, you're sure, is clinging to the side of your yellow suit.

  
Silky. Spicy, but not in a way that's harsh on the nose. An undercurrent of sweet. Very pleasant. Also very clearly expensive. A cologne, you realize, and not one of the cheap ones.

  
It is rather nice.

  
And you took too long to turn away, so he's looking at you again.

"Something the matter?"

From the corners of your eyes, you can see the other Eggmen steeling themselves. You're reasonable sure they can hear your heart beat from all the way over there.

"I was just thinking about", you gulp, trying to moisten your mouth which suddenly feels very dry, "your suit?"

At least he looks taken aback enough for you to keep going.

"It's very nice. Is that silk?"

Nailed it?

Steelbeak does give you another long look that you absolutely cannot place, before a smile spreads on his beak. "Why, yes. Thank you for asking." He triumphantly grins over to the Eggman with the dent in the wall next to his head. "See? Now that's the kind of question we here at F.O.W.L. appreciate."

The way he pronounces the word appreciate is adorable.

Wait, focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this, I noticed that I don't actually know how to write a Brooklyn accent. I'm very sorry.


	2. For Special Services

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first F.O.W.L. heist!  
> The excitement! Of mostly not getting noticed by your boss, the heist itself is pretty easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, all the chapters are named after James Bond books, thank you for noticing.

The St. Canard Museum of Fine Arts had a back entrance that you'd been previously unaware of.

  
It leads to an abandoned looking parking area. You could swear you hear a stray dog howl in the distance.

  
The only thing keeping this scene from being out of virtually every movie ever made is the fact that it's bright as day out. A concrete courtyard, flat, featureless and boring, but brightly lit.

  
There's three cars parked there, presumably belonging to the guards and the craftsmen, respectively. They're all empty.

  
"You stay here and wait for us to get back. Shouldn't take long", Steelbeak instructs the Eggman sitting in the driver's seat and he does an awkward-looking salute in turn.  
You and your four colleagues have poured out of the egg car and are standing aimlessly.

  
You wonder if maybe you should have disguised as janitors or something. Then again, F.O.W.L. might actually want people to know what they did. They're weird people who take pride in their crimes.

  
Steelbeak joins you and you can tell because all five of you stiffen like boards. Even the more seasoned veterans among you know not to mess with him.  
Terrifying.

  
While people at S.H.U.S.H. respect Agent Grizzlikov deeply and he often checks by with new recruits to give them pointers and even though his violent outbursts are duly noted, nobody would tense up like that in his presence.

  
Then again, he's far less likely to attack fellow agents. He usually vents his frustrations on inanimate objects and the occasional Darkwing Duck.

  
"You two stay out here and guard the entrance." He picks one of the new recruits and one of the old ones, if you remember correctly. "If Dorkwing Doof comes by, that's your problem. Get rid of 'im. Warn us. Or both. But I do not want him to drop by and surprise us, capiche?"

  
The two nod and Steelbeak smiles again. 

  
"And you three come with me."

  
When you follow behind your two coworkers, you can tell that his eyes are on you again. Maybe you should have picked a suit a size larger. It does give you a rather shapely silhouette, clinging to your curves and making it apparent that you're not technically an Egg _man_. But looking at the uniforms for their female counterparts and their weirdly low-cut necklines had you shake your head and refuse.

  
Well, if he thinks anything of it, he doesn't say it and walks past the three of you to take the lead, so you have time to focus on standing straight, mimicking the gait of the two in front of you and don't get distracted by Steelbeak's tailfeathers. Something about them draws your gaze. Their blue shimmer, the way they just stick out of his pants and bounce gently with every step he takes, it's weirdly mesmerizing. Endearing, in a weird way you can't quite place.

  
_Focus._

  
He's not even doing anything. You can't let this suave bastard get to you. You've been warned, after all. You're an agent of S.H.U.S.H., too. So you're obviously better than that.  
Just cause he's the objectively most handsome and well-dressed man you've ever seen doesn't mean you can let your goal get out of sight.

  
Infiltrate F.O.W.L..

  
Gain intel.

  
Leak intel to S.H.U.S.H. and then gain the admiration of everyone there as F.O.W.L. is destroyed forever and you are lauded a hero.

  
Simple.

  
Straightforward.

  
You bump into the Eggman walking in front of you when he stops abruptly and mutter an apology under your breath as you step back. Steelbeak stopped next to a door that is slightly ajar. From where you stand, you can see flickering blue-ish lights and only after you turn your head a little do you realize that's where the guards are sitting in front of their cheap surveillance screens. There's two of them, one appears to be snacking something. Steelbeak motions you to be quiet before reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out what looks like a ball of glass. It's filled with a green liquid that sloshes around when he rolls the ball with much the same technique as a bowling player into the room. You hear it crash into one of the chairs, the guard's confused muttering and then Steelbeak shuts the door.

  
"Did you just kill them?", your fellow rookie asks. You're grateful he did, because that means you won't have to.

  
Steelbeak laughs softly. "Oh no. Not if the ventilation in there works. They're just taking a little nap, so they're not getting in the way."

  
You're briefly amazed by the mercy of it. The cynic in you had expected F.O.W.L. to just waltz in there and shoot these unsuspecting guards before they had a chance of getting in the way. You remind yourself though that they are mostly pragmatists. The guards just got lucky that there was an easier way to dispose of them. No need to give the Fiendish Organization too much credit here - there's no doubt in your mind that Steelbeak or any other agent would have just killed them without mercy if that had been the easier way. 

  
"Shouldn't we do something about the surveillance cameras though?", you hear your own voice asking. You can't help yourself. S.H.U.S.H. protocol dictates not leaving behind any trace, especially surveillance tapes. _Especially_ when you have them right in your grasp.

  
Steelbeak gives you another look. He didn't look at your colleague like that when he asked. You shrink away ever so slightly .

  
"No, that's okay. They can know that we have the picture." He walks over to you and you give in to the impulse of hiding behind the bodies of the other two Eggmen. Unfortunately, they're just as afraid and not much of a help. 

  
At a single gesture of Steelbeak, they part and he's standing right in front of you. You have no doubt in your head that just about anyone in the museum is able to hear your heartbeat. There's no way that loud a sound can be contained within your body.

  
"It's good to build a certain rep, see." He trails a finger up your beak and you suck in a breath at the sudden touch. "Kinda like this, see. If you don't let 'em catch you doing something illegal every now and again, they're gonna forget all about you. And when they watch these puppies later and have irrefutable proof of F.O.W.L. having the blueprints for a superweapon in their hands, they'll think twice about bothering us."

  
You force your eyes open and nod meekly. Intimidation. Got it. Thanks for the demonstration.

  
The way your feathers are standing on edge tells you that it works.

  
"Good." He pulls away from you and you let out a shaky breath. Your two colleagues give you what you hope are sympathetic glances. Or they're confused as to why you react so weirdly. 

  
"Anyway", Steelbeak continues, walking again, so the three of you have to move to keep up, "as far as first missions go, this one's really a cakewalk. You could've ended up with Ammonia or someone even worse. Luckily, ol' Steelbeak's gotchu."

  
The other Eggmen nod eagerly, so you join.

  
"Sweet, now get rid of these guys." 

  
He points his thumb at three craftsmen, easily recognizable by their overalls and the fact that they're carrying equipment. They look confused, a bit panicked maybe, then one of them swings a paint roller over his head and charges at you.

  
Steelbeak takes a step back to avoid the carnage.

  
The largest out of you three charges the craftsmen in turn and body slams the one with the paint roller to the ground. They wrestle. Your fellow rookie looks around before tackling one who looked just as confused. The third craftsman decides to run, so it's up to you to give chase.

  
He runs for one of the big red buttons that's in every room and will trigger the alarm system. Complete lockdown of the museum and then the police will show up to take you in. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that that would massively derail your plans, especially considering nobody at S.H.U.S.H. knows of your little sting operation, so they wouldn't be able to bail you out.

  
Fortunately, you are fully trained. All it takes is a quick, well-aimed karate chop to the side of the neck to knock the man out cold. Since you can feel Steelbeak's eyes on you again, you pretend to kick the unconscious man in the ribs a few times. It's the most unprofessional thing you can think of. You mutter a few apologies under your breath, then grab the body and drag it back to where your colleagues have just finished fighting off their opponents. The big Eggman took his out right away, while the smaller one struggled with his for a while. Fortunately, the big one came to his help and knocked the last craftsman out with very little trouble.

  
You sit all three of them next to each other and while your colleagues pull rope from their suits, you automatically frisk the unconscious men for phones and other communication devices and pile those up neatly just out of their reach. While the other two tie them up, you get back up.

  
"Very nice", you hear Steelbeak comment from the sidelines.

  
"Thank you. Sir", you add the last part quickly.

  
"That should take care of everyone in here. I told youse, this is a piece of cake."

  
"Plus, it's day, so we don't have to be on lookout for the terror that flaps in the night", one of the Eggmen notes. The other one elbows him in the side.

  
"It is nice to get him out of my feathers, yes", Steelbeak notes, but he doesn't sound too happy.

  
"It's also easier to see", you hear the other Eggman mutter.

  
The group is moving again. Your training takes over and your eyes, ever-vigilant, scan every room you walk through. They are all devoid of people. It's eerie. So is the way your group's footsteps echo in between all these paintings and abstract sculptures.

  
This would be a really nice trip, you realize, if it weren't for the whole F.O.W.L. undercover situation. The museum smells like you remember and the absence of crowds makes being here really pleasant. The lights in here aren't very bright to conserve the older paintings, but especially the halls with more postmodern sculptures are positively flooded with sunlight coming in through the many windows.

  
Then the very artwork you're here for comes into view. It's behind a red rope barrier. A bunch of yellowed sketches of weirdly antiquated devices all just stuck together in one golden frame that is covered in filigree patterns you're afraid will break if you look at them too hard.

  
Walking past a dimly lit hallway, you spot a suspiciously large grey box. That must be the main alarm system. It resembles one of the various photos you were shown in one of your courses, albeit those were illuminated much better.

  
You know this one. A giddy feeling fills you. You learned about the alarm systems from this particular manufacturer and their glaring weakness. Since you got this, you slip out of formation and let the shadows swallow you. They do so very reluctantly, in no small part due to the bright yellow of your suit. You pull something out of your pocket.  
"What are you doing?", your fellow rookie's voice whispers out of the bright light.

  
"It would be foolish to assume that the priceless artworks in this exhibition are left just hanging on the wall and guarded by a few cameras that are in turn overseen by two now sleeping guards. Surely there are more mechanical traps. Like sensors that respond to touch, shifting weights, or just a simple wire attached to the back of it. And all those sensors, as well as the big red buttons, go to this little box over here, which will sound the alarm when activated."

  
You raise the small magnet you brought for him to see.

  
"But this system, as sensitive as it is, absolutely hates magnets. So if I do it like this", you push the box open and briefly look at the blinking lights and many, many wires before running the magnet along the length of it, which causes the lights to flicker and turn off, "that should reboot the whole system. We should now have between three and five minutes to nab the painting without setting the whole thing off."

  
You turn around, a bright smile on your beak. It dies abruptly when you remember that you're not a S.H.U.S.H. agent showing off to your trainers, but a measly little Eggman and your two fellow Eggmen look absolutely dumbfounded. Steelbeak is standing right next to them and even though you can't see his expression, due to the light coming from behind, you feel like someone poured ice water into your suit. With your tail between your legs, you sneak back into formation, careful to keep at least one of your fellow Eggmen between you and Steelbeak's scrutiny.

  
"That's- what I heard, anyway", you mumble when no one says anything.

  
Steelbeak snaps his fingers and the larger of the two Eggmen walks over to take the picture off the wall. You notice the thin wire attached to the back of it stretching. The picture catches on the resistance and the Eggman looks confused before thinking to check the back and snap the wire with another tug.

  
Then, silence. You're positively drowning in it. Shivering in your suit.

  
But, there's no alarm. It keeps being silent, safe for your heart banging against your ribs.

  
"How did you know about that?", Steelbeak asks. He's leaning in to you again and you reflexively take half a step back.

  
"I did my reading?", you suggest.

  
"You can read?" Wait, _that's_ the part he's impressed by?

  
"Looks like you're already overqualified for this job." Since he's laughing again, you allow yourself to exhale softly.

  
Then he snatches the magnet out of your hand.

  
"Where'd you get that?"

  
The answer is easy and you already take a breath to simply tell him what you've told your many, many trainers over the years. _S.H.U.S.H. protocol: Never leave house without a magnet. It's just one of the many tools an agent is expected to carry on their person at all times._

  
You bite your tongue before saying that out however. That would blow your cover beyond repair and you're already on thin ice. 

  
"It's mine?", you offer. "I brought it from home." That's not technically a lie.

  
He narrows his eyes, but flicks the magnet back at you and you catch it and stash it away in your suit.

  
"Not bad, rookie", he says.

  
You can't help but smile. A glowing sense of pride settling in your chest.

  
"Anyway, we got the thing. Good job all around. Now let's get outta here, so the lab boys can figure out what to do with this thing."

  
"Maybe X-Rays to figure out if there really is anything written on the back", you muse. Oops, he's looking at you again. 

  
"That way you won't have to damage the frame and can still extort and or sell it for large sums of money?"

  
"I'll pass that on to them", Steelbeak notes. 

  
That's it. No questions, no gun to your head, no threats. Maybe you did it after all. You're just a very qualified Eggman, nervous on her first outing. Yeah. That sounds believable, right? You'd probably buy it if you were F.O.W.L.. Probably.

  
Steelbeak briefly waves at one of the cameras with the most charming smile you've seen in your entire life and then the four of you hurry back the same way you came in. Past the tied up craftsmen that are still unconscious, past the security guard's den with the closed door. Since they made no move, you assume they're still asleep.

  
The big guy is carrying what looks to be a heavy painting without complaint and handles it with more care than you'd expected.

  
The other two Eggmen standing guard outside, having assumed ridiculously over-the-top karate poses, freeze immediately once your group makes it through the door.   
The egg car's engine starts with a roar and you all pile into the back again before driving off.

  
All the Eggmen again sit in their uncomfortable little bowl chairs and hold very still. Big guy is still holding the collage and Steelbeak stands in front of it, marvelling at either the blueprints, or his reflection in the frame, from here you can't quite tell.

  
Still, with your first heist over with, without the involvement of any law enforcement, official or vigilant, you feel a lot of tension just fall off of you. Your muscles soften, your heartbeat slows and for the first time all day, you're feeling almost calm. This can still totally work.

  
All in all, this whole affair took less than an hour. It's quite amazing how quick and easy such a heist can go when you know what you're doing, you think to yourself.  
Mostly you. You obviously carried this entire operation. You make a mental note to pat yourself on the shoulder later.

  
Then there's a large hand on your shoulder and all the muscle tension, the panic and the cold sweat return with a vengeance.

  
"Hey", Steelbeak coos, his face and very dangerous beak very close to yours. "I just wanted to tell you, nice work in there. I'm seriously impressed. Hard to believe it's only your first day in the field, eh?"

  
"Oh?", you manage. It's a good thing you're wearing a visor and can avoid eye contact as much as you want without him ever knowing. It's already taking all of your willpower to force your voice not to waver. You couldn't stand looking at him at the same time. Much too distracting.

  
You shift a little in your uncomfortable bowl, but his hand doesn't move. His grip on your shoulder is firm. Not enough to hurt, but enough for you to know that regardless of how much you squirm, he's not going to relent.

  
"I'm- glad you think so. Sir. Thank you."

  
How do Eggmen even talk to their superiors? How do people talk to other people at all? Your brain is drowning in panic and you're feeling like you're losing all the words you ever knew.

  
From the corner of your eyes, you can see him smiling and you're reasonably sure that your heart should not jump the way it does at the sight of it. "You seem to have a buncha good ideas, too", he continues in that soft voice that makes your feathers stand on end.

  
Why are you so hyper-aware of the way his hand feels on you, anyway?

  
"So why don't you come over to my office and we can discuss what other bright ideas you have to offer. It feels like a bit of a waste to leave so much potential with a simple Eggman, yanno?"

  
You nod shakily, even though all the alarms in your brain are going off. If only shutting them off were as easy as running a magnet through a box.

  
"Sure."

  
You barely notice when the car stops and the other Eggmen get off. You really only move when Steelbeak takes half a step aside and motions for you to. So you slide out of the bowl on your legs that feel shaky and weak. You stumble out of the car and are back in the crowded F.O.W.L. garage. There's a lot of Eggmen out here. Maybe you can just make a run for it and join the crowd of identical yellow suits and helmets. There's no way Steelbeak would find you there, right?

  
Your hopes are shattered when he puts his hand back on your shoulder. Crushed, even. Still, part of you can't help but feel weirdly excited at the touch.

  
You really need to work on your professionalism.

  
Two large Eggmen approach the group and take the collage from your heist crew's big guy.

  
"To the lab. Tell 'em to X-Ray it", Steelbeak orders. "I got other things to do."

  
All present Eggmen salute and then scatter. You briefly wonder if you should salute as well, but can't muster up the strength. Every muscle in your body feels tense. You couldn't even move if you wanted to.

  
It takes Steelbeak's arm sliding from your shoulder to curl around your waist and giving you a light push for you to stiffly stumble a few steps. You manage not to fall or trip. Despite the large body right next to yours, so close you can feel his warmth on you, his cologne everywhere again, in every breath you take, despite the area crawling with people looking just like you, you feel terribly small and terribly alone.

  
Nobody spares you a second glance.

  
Maybe this whole infiltration thing was a bad idea after all.

  
He's going to find you out and he's going to kill you and the last thing you're going to see is a face that makes your insides twist in weird ways. 

  
When you reach an elevator, you rack your brain trying to remember if it was the same one you took before the heist, but you don't remember. Your brain feels fuzzy and your mental map of the base is a mess. So even if you got away from Steelbeak right now, you'd get lost in this massive complex and probably starve in a corner.

  
He pushes you into the small cabin with him and presses his thumb on a pad next to the numbers, before selecting the highest level. The doors close and you feel hopelessly lost.

  
If he's saying anything to you, you can't tell over the way your heartbeat is echoing in your ears.

  
After what feels like an eternity, the elevator dings softly and you are pushed into a hallway that looks surprisingly nice and clean. One that would fit better in a mansion or at least a high-class hotel than a mountain base. There's carpet, the doors are out of expensive wood, the walls have darkened wallpaper that looks weirdly classy and not as sterile as the plain whites on the lower levels. Even the lightbulbs have lampshades. This must be where the higher level agents get to work.

  
He leads you to the very end of the hallway and you peek out of the window there while he does something you are too distracted to pay attention to and then he drags you through the door into an office larger than your apartment.

  
You have to bite back a comment at how expensive the furniture in here looks.

  
Two of the wall are basically large windows, one overseeing the garage and the bustling of Eggmen below, the other overlooks some mountains, wood and in the distance, the city of St. Canard. You just know that the skyline must look breathtaking at night.

  
Next to the door is a large screen, TV or computer or something and the other wall features an oil painting of Steelbeak's face. Subtle.

  
More wallpaper, red carpet on the floor, a towering desk and a chair that looks more like a throne.

  
"I could stick around here", you mutter. You feel a sense of chagrin at how small and dark and crowded Agent Grizzlikov's office is by comparison. Sure, it has a view over the city too, but nothing quite like this.

  
It doesn't have what looks like a mini bar, either. How enviable.

  
You hear Steelbeak laugh and jump a little when he shuts the door behind you. Crap, you forgot. Now you're trapped. 

  
"Well, never let it be said that F.O.W.L. doesn't appreciate hard work." His arm leaves your waist and you scramble against the door, but it's difficult to use the handle when it's pressed into your back. "And of course the cream of the crop gets the nicest toys." His voice is dripping with self-satisfaction and when you shoot him a glance, he's looking beyond smug to boot.

  
Smug and handsome.

  
"But I didn't bring you up here just to impress you."

  
He doesn't offer you a seat, but doesn't head for his throne, either. But when he does move closer to you, you instinctively try to back away, until you're wedged into a corner. If you're lucky, you're just going to get a heart attack right here and die on the spot.

  
"Let's talk."

  
He leans closer to you again. You can see a very panicked Eggman reflected in his beak. One of his arms rests on the wall beside your head and you are thoroughly caged.  
So you gulp and offer a smile.

  
"Sure."

  
"So", he takes your expression in for a painfully long while before a smile splits his shining metal beak. "How long have you been working for S.H.U.S.H. for?"


	3. Win, Lose or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The jig is up. Steelbeak confronts you in his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC is referred to as Agent 77 a couple of times. This is again based on my OC, but I figured it inconsequential enough to leave in.

"I'm sorry?", you manage, eyes wide behind your visor. You force yourself to be less splayed out against the wall and even succeed in a short, awkward laugh. "What are you talking about?"

  
The smile doesn't leave his beak - his terrifying beak you know capable of biting through most anything, from gluten to guns. "Save it, babe. I got your number. The magnet? The surveillance cameras? All that knowledge about alarm systems? And the way you knocked that guy out? That's all classic S.H.U.S.H.. Lemme guess, it's protocol to never leave the house without a magnet on you." He cackles.

  
"I have no idea what you're talking about", you insist. "I just know about alarm systems. I have seen heist movies before in my life. They, uh, inspired me to a life of crime."

  
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I'm not buying it.", he shifts his weight slightly and you're feeling even more cornered than before. His bicep brushes against your cheek. Why does he have to be so stupidly large? He could probably roll you up into a ball with absolutely no effort. 

  
There's a mirror mounted on the wall right next to you and you realize it gives you a front row seat to your awkward fidgeting.

  
"What surprises me is that Hooty'd send someone for us. I didn't think him the type."

  
It takes you a second to realize he's talking about your boss and then he flicks your beak and you are completely at a loss of what to do.

  
"Or Grizzy. He's such a stick in the mud. I don't think sting operations are in the rulebook."

  
You muster up the courage for a shrug. You're just a humble Eggman, you know not of those people he's speaking of.

  
Steelbeak gives you a very long look that makes you feel like you're cooking in your boots. Boiling in your suit.

  
"Take that dumb helmet off", he finally orders.

  
Your hands instinctively shoot up to grasp it, but he brushes them off with ease and pulls it off himself.

  
There's a low sound when it falls to the carpeted floor.

  
Your eyes had grown so used to the built-in shades that you have to squint against the sudden brightness of unfiltered daylight.

  
Steelbeak leans back to get a better look at you. His eyes scan your whole body without the helmet once, before locking on your face.

  
"Well, that's a pleasant surprise", he finds.

  
You look to the side to find your reflection looking back at you, just as confused. You're not that well-known, you just started out, after all. And since today marks your first time meeting him, he shouldn't really be able to recognize you at all.

  
Instead, he brings up a hand to tilt your chin up. Forcing you to look at him. Your wide eyes reflected in his. His thumb runs over the side of your beak in a way that makes you shiver.

  
"You're cute."

  
"I'm sorry, what now-"

  
When your eyes involuntarily dart to the side, he gives your face a small tug and you, getting the message, look back at him.

  
"It feels like a bit of a waste to splatter the insides of such a bright head all over the wallpaper."

  
"Then, don't?", you suggest.

  
He hums, seemingly mulling it over.

  
"Why don'tcha tell me who sent you and I'll think about it?"

  
Inside of you there's an ice cube and something weirdly hot and fluttering and they're battling over which gets to be the dominant emotion. When Steelbeak moves, you automatically shift so his hand stays on you. So you can maximize the surface of contact between him and you. You only really notice this after doing it and his smirk tells you that he noticed it as well. He goes back to rubbing small circles into the underside of your beak and your knees turn into pudding.

  
Well, there's not much you can do right now. Maybe you'll at least get to vent a little.

  
Your look down at your feet. His white sleeve partially blocks your view, but it's better than to sink into those grey eyes of his.

  
You take a deep breath. "I sent myself."

  
No response.

  
You shift to the side.

  
"I am a S.H.U.S.H. agent, yes, but Director Hooter and Agent Grizzlikov have nothing to do with me being here. I just figured we needed to do more if we wanted to defeat F.O.W.L.. Not just stick to the rulebook all the time." You feel your first close as you finally allow yourself to voice your frustrations, but force yourself to open it again. You are still pinned to the wall by a F.O.W.L. agent, after all.

  
"So you decided to take matters into your own hands, eh?" Steelbeak suggests.

  
You nod.

  
He moves in even closer and suddenly his beak rubs against yours. The coldness of the steel makes you shiver. His forehead bumps against yours and you suddenly feel very, very small. His hand moves up to cup your cheek and also to keep your head in place.

  
You should be thankful for that, seeing how the way beak rubs against beak makes your head swim. You feel dizzy.

  
"That went well for you", he points out and laughs. You could listen to that laugh for hours. 

  
"What are you going to do now?", you ask. You're a little overwhelmed, sure, but not stupid. You're not going to be lulled into a sense of security by all this sweet-talking. "Because I doubt S.H.U.S.H. would pay much of a ransom for me. I mean, I was top of my class at the academy, but I'm still an insubordinate rookie who snuck off."

  
"Top of the class, eh? Not bad."

  
You shiver again, but find a quantum of courage somewhere deep inside of you, so you gather that and push against the much larger body that's pressed so close against yours. He doesn't even budge. All that accomplished was that your palms are now splayed on his chest. It's firm under your fingers. And god, why is it so broad.

  
"You're right though. S.H.U.S.H.'s a buncha cheapskates. You don't usually get a good ransom out of them. And that's the game. You snooze, you lose. That's on you, babe."  
You feel really stupid. Holding on to your future murderer because your legs are too weak to carry your weight.

  
"I don't want to die", you admit. It just slipped out, but it's the truth. Plain as day.

  
Steelbeak leans away from you and you scramble to hold on to the wall instead when the support provided by his broad frame disappears.

  
"You don't have to."

  
There's embers of hope glowing in the pit of you and you try desperately not to fan them into a flame for him to extinguish with a word, but there's no sadism in his face, no glee, none of that feline play-with-your-prey-before-killing-it.

  
"You don't belong with S.H.U.S.H., that much is clear, but you're too good to waste. So how's about you join F.O.W.L. instead?"

  
As much as you probably could have seen that coming, you stare at him, aghast. "What?"

  
Steelbeak shrugs. "You don't play by the rules, but you know your stuff. You're skilled and dangerously cute. We could always use someone like that over here."

  
"You're the bad guys", you protest.

  
He snorts. "Good, bad. This isn't a cartoon, chickpea." He flicks your beak and you immediately bring up a hand to rub it. "It's not all black and white. And if you were to look into it a bit, you'd find that none of those spy organizations are really all good or all bad. Honestly, just pick the one you jell with the most and work for them. Just take me for instance."

  
_I would_ something inside you chirps. Your face feels hot. It's a good thing he can't read your mind.

  
Instead, he gestured broadly across his large office. "I just went to whoever offered me the most for my talents. So I get to do what I do best and make bank. It's a classic win-win."

  
He leans back into you and press yourself as far against the wall as you can, which is to say, not very far. You can feel its firmness on your spine.

  
"You can't tell me S.H.U.S.H. pays that well. I've been to Grizzy's place once. Guy lives in a shoebox. Heck, I have _closets_ the size of his apartment and he's supposed to be the chief agent of that lousy outfit."

  
You briefly wonder why he would've been at Agent Grizzlikov's place before, or if maybe your superior agent just leads a more spartanic lifestyle. Someone who doesn't need much to be happy. Actually, you're reasonably sure that he'd be perfectly fine as long as he had the current edition S.H.U.S.H. rulebook and regulation guidelines to keep him company. But then your thoughts dart back to your own place and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. It's depressingly tiny. Sure, big cities are expensive, but you still wish for more space than a broom closet from time to time.

  
As far as you're away, not even Director Hooter's salary is something to write home about.

  
"I'd be happy to take you home for a ...demonstration, but I have this whole thing about not bringing enemy agents over to mine."

  
You immediately regret looking at him. His expression makes his salacious intent more than clear. What's even more annoying is the way it sparks something inside of you that immediately turns very hot. The heat rises to your face and you have to avert your eyes and not look at the mirror, either.

  
"So, all you have to offer is money then?", you ask coldly.

  
"Money, me. You don't die." Steelbeak shrugs. "I know it's not much, but it won't hurt to consider it."

  
"I don't know if I wouldn't rather lose my soul than sell it."

  
He raises his eyebrows. "Very nice. But consider this. We don't have to do mountains of paperwork for every step we take." He lilts the last part, like it's a song and what's worse, it works.

  
"No paperwork?"

  
"Just a little and it's very manageable."

  
You don't want that to be what wins you over. But then again, regardless of what you choose, greed, lust or just cowardly grovelling for your life, you won't look too good coming out of this. The best way to save face would be to tell him to bite it and possibly you and then hope for a swift death.

  
But you don't want to die, so there's that.

  
You try to shift away from him. "Can't we just pretend this never happened? I go home and don't tell anyone about any of this." He narrows his eyes and you wish you could crawl up the wall like a gecko. "I mean, no harm done, right?" You give him your best pleading expression. It doesn't work.

  
Grovelling didn't work, either.

  
"I just made you the offer of a lifetime and that's all you have to say for yourself?"

  
"It's not all of it", you begin, but then your brain hits a roadblock.

  
Steelbeak huffs. Runs a hand over his comb, even though it's meticulous. Really, everything about him is.

  
Maybe he'll at least let you choose your last meal.

  
With the finality of someone who has nothing left to lose, you grab him by the bow tie and pull him closer to you. It works, surprisingly, and once he's close enough, you push your beak up against his and hope that he won't take the opportunity to bite anything off. 

  
He doesn't. He kisses you back fiercely and despite your initial concerns, he seems to know exactly how to angle himself and how much pressure he can apply without seriously hurting you. There are moments when you think you can feel him scraping against your beak or shaving tiny pieces off, but he's otherwise surprisingly adept. It gets even easier once his tongue is clashing with yours. You're clinging to the lapels of his suit for dear life, like a person drowning at sea would clutch a piece of driftwood, until one of his hands pulls your fingers off and you can feel him smoothen the fabric you crumpled in your frantic grasp. You'd laugh, but there's too much of him in your mouth and frankly, it's ruining your focus. So you do what you can, which is to wrap an arm around his neck and run your fingers through his feathers. 

  
It doesn't take long for him to grind into you and for you to groan at the hardness in his pants.

  
You use your free hand to fumble with the belt of your suit, because it's over your shirt. It's difficult with only one hand at your disposal, but it finally hits the floor with a clinking sound. Immediately, his hands are all over you and before your mind, still swimming, has processed things, he's torn the yellow uniform along with the gloves and boots off of you. One of your hands flies between your legs to cover yourself, but he pins it to the wall beside you. His beak moves to your neck and you hold your breath, but he doesn't bite straight through your spine. He just lays more kisses on it and you squeeze your eyes shut and tilt your head back. Grind into his hand as his fingers move between your legs.

  
Finally one of them pushes inside of you and you gasp. Grab his shoulders and pull his beak back on yours. You want to be closer to him. Closer, closest. The lust has clouded your brain and short-circuited as your mind is, all you can think of doing is claw at his immaculate suit.

  
Something tells you he doesn't like that terribly, because the next thing that registers is the pain of being all but slammed into the glass wall. Looking down, past your naked and horny reflection, you can see the garage and the buzz of yellow suits milling around down there. You want to say something in protest, what if one of them looks up and happens to see your naked form pressed against the glass, but the sound of a zipper sucks all the moisture out of your mouth. You swallow as you feel something large press up against you from behind. All you can think to do is press back against it and then he's pushing inside of you and your hot breath fogs the glass. You lean on your forearms for support. Your legs are barely touching the floor, which is good, because they feel shaky and weak.

  
He lets you claw against the window as much as you want as he fucks you. The pace is harsh and quick and you are too preoccupied with trying to remember to breathe so you have the air you need to whine and moan his name. That is all you can think of. No fear of being spotted, no thoughts about unprofessional behavior, no thoughts about S.H.U.S.H. or F.O.W.L.. All there is in the world is you and Steelbeak and he's inside of you, his body rocking against yours. It's very simple and very straightforward.  
There's the coldness of his beak at the back of your neck again and you feel grateful for it, because your body is feeling feverish and hot. There's also his hands, you realize. One of them is wrapped around your waist, his hand splayed on your stomach, keeping you in position. The other just slid between your legs again and when his fingers brush against your clit, it's like an electric shock surging through you. Desperately chasing the high it gave you before, you grind your hips into his fingers. He barely has to do anything at this point. Just be there. You're far too eager to fuck yourself on him and feel his fingers feather against your most sensitive spot.

  
Your concept of time has melted completely. You have no idea how long you've been doing this for, all you know is that there's this feeling building up inside of you. The more there is of it, the tighter it grows, like a knot or a tiny black hole in the pit of you. Your lungs are on fire and you can't breathe, you can't think, you can't focus, but you can't stop all the same.

  
Finally, release. The pressure has built up and it explodes in you. You let out a garbled moan and your body goes slack. Sure, your hips are still moving a bit, but there's no real force behind it. One of your hands slams into the window, but the glass, or maybe plastic, whatever it is, remains unimpressed. It takes a few seconds for your orgasm to decrease in intensity and you can finally feel your legs again. They feel tense like you just ran a marathon unprepared. Your hand kind of hurts where you slammed it but, more importantly, you can feel Steelbeak moving in you again. Not as quickly as before, mostly just rocking into you while he's sheathed himself fully in you and then the hand on your stomach tenses. You yelp, pretty sure that that's going to bruise, but then you hear him drawl out a groan and there's something warm deep inside of you.

  
When he pulls out of you, you can still feel distant echoes of your orgasm floating through your body. At least your legs unexpectedly manage to carry your weight.

  
The two of you are breathing heavily in unison, which gives you no small amount of satisfaction - you managed to wreck him as well. His hand briefly smoothes over your stomach were he squeezed you, as if he's trying to apologize, but then pulls away without him saying anything.

  
You feel hot and tired and sore and sink against the glass where it's not fogged over from your hot moans, because it happens to be quite cold and soothing there. Before long, you're curled up on the floor, trying to take up as little space as possible while also pressing as much of your surface as you can against the cool glass.

  
You also have to press your thighs together, because you can feel his emissions seeping out of your core and it feels weird and you're not sure you want to stain his carpet. And that's just the tip of the ice berg of worries that now come flooding back into your mind, now that it can focus on something other than getting wrecked again.

  
"Alright." Steelbeak puts a hand on the top of your head. Ruffles your feathers like a good-natured playmate, not someone who just fucked you in his office. "I've made up my mind."

  
You look up at him. You're too tired even to plead.

  
"You've convinced me. I'm gonna let you split, just this once."

  
You blink a few times. Did you hear that right? Your mind's still a bit fuzzy.

  
He's all zipped up and immaculate again, the most to tell of your escapades would be some of the feathers on his neck that look a little bit ruffled. Meanwhile you're on the floor and a mess. 

  
When you don't respond, he kicks the Eggman suit over to you.

  
"What're you waiting for, get on outta here."

  
"Are you for real?"

  
He shrugs, but stays right where he is and watches as you hesitantly put your clothes back on.

  
"You do have a point. You didn't do any damages and if you tell anyone of what you did here today, you're gonna be the one in trouble, not me. That being said, my offer still stands. If you're ever tired of those losers over at S.H.U.S.H., just give me a call and I'll pull some strings and before you know it, you'll be inducted into the F.O.W.L. servitude!" He sounds far too chipper and not at all winded enough for your liking. The world is unfair. You run a hand over your beak. It's lightly scratched in a few places, but nothing serious.

  
"Thanks", is all you tell him. And while you do mean it, you genuinely don't have the energy to stay and chat. You force yourself to give him a smile before he changes his mind and then he lets you out of his office and you stumble a few weak steps down the corridor.

  
Just as he is about to shut the door again, you turn around. 

  
"Actually and I'm very sorry about that, but I could I trouble you for directions to the changing rooms for the Eggmen?"

*

Despite Steelbeak's instructions, you get lost numerous times. He seems to notice, because at some point, two Eggmen come and pick you up. They lead you down to where you need to go and you even manage to find the locker with your regular clothes in again, so you get changed and leave the mountain base as quickly as you can. Sure, it's quite a treck on foot to the nearest bus stop, but you manage that as well and doze off during the half-hour trip back to St. Canard. You wake up shortly before your stop and after falling into your tiny apartment, cozy, you tell yourself, you spend two hours sitting in the shower and another three staring at the wall, waiting for your ruffled feathers to dry.

  
You fucked up today.

  
You didn't think things through, followed a stupid, reckless plan and got yourself in serious danger. It's honestly a miracle that you made it out in one piece, you realize. Your fingers ghost over one of the bruises on the back of your neck.

  
Sure, you are probably going to miss Steelbeak, he ended up being a lot more agreeable than you gave him credit for, but you can't go crushing on and sleeping with one of the top enemy agents. Leave the undercover work to people who don't get found out on the first day because of their ego.

  
You sigh, but decide that you deserve this. You got ahead of yourself, got burned and now you're better off just sticking to paperwork for the next couple of years. If you're lucky, you won't have any run-ins with F.O.W.L. ever again.

*

The next day you wear a very plain pantsuit to the very plain building you work in. It has a high collar that covers the back of your neck. Your midriff is also bruised, as expected, but wearing clothes that revealing would be against regulations anyway.

You're very thankful that you took that shower yesterday, you realize. Otherwise you'd be smelling like Steelbeak's cologne all over and sticking out like an olfactoric sore thumb in this mess.

  
You greet the other agents you come by on your way to the coffee machine, recognize a few from your training exercises - you definitely almost broke that one guy's spine - and then sit down at your table to sip your coffee and look through the stacks of paper you have to work through today. Some leftover from your last "mission" to the dry cleaners from when Agent Dodo spilled coffee on his suit.

  
Five minutes in and you're already missing the thrill of your undercover operation. Sure, the heist was easy, but it was more exciting than filling out forms. And you've never had more adrenaline coursing through your body than when Steelbeak had you pinned in his office. 

  
Your _unauthorized_ undercover operation, you remind yourself. You're not going to run off and be stupid again.

  
"Agent 77?"

  
You look up. Agent Grizzlikov is standing in the door to the small office room that you share with about three other rookies and two interns. He looks uncomfortable. In part due to his height and the small width of the doorway - and the entire hallway on this level, really, but that probably wasn't all.

  
Did they find you out?

  
You quickly drop the regulation pen next to the regulation paperwork on the regulation desk and get up from your regulation chair that's supposed to support the back but really doesn't and just makes you feel like you just got off a torture rack at the end of a long workday.

  
"Sir."

  
"Is good to see you're feeling better today", he notes and it takes you a few seconds to remember that you called in sick yesterday to pull your little stunt.

  
"Yes. Of course. No cold can hold me down for long." You smile at him. "Besides, I wasn't done with these forms yet."

  
He nods. "Exemplary, agent. Very exemplary. As usual. Can you come with me please? Director Hooter wants to see you."

  
Oh, you fucked up.

  
The other people in the room look at you. The ice cube in your stomach is back.

  
Did you fuck up though? Do they know? How would they know? Did you lose something? Did Steelbeak tell them? Would he do that? Why would he do that though? 

  
Okay, maybe to force you to join F.O.W.L.. You decide that you wouldn't put that beyond him. He did try to recruit you and you had your doubts about him letting you off the hook so easily.

  
You nod and follow Agent Grizzlikov with furrowed brows past many, many, _many_ crowded office rooms and into an elevator. All these agents, dressed in blacks and greys. Part of you misses that vibrant yellow, disgusting though as it may be. The smell of coffee wafts through the air. It's everywhere. It's the smell of S.H.U.S.H.. The fuel behind every operation. Well, coffee, paper and pens. F.O.W.L. could ruin the entire agency by cutting the supply to either of those things.

  
Coffee being the most sadistic choice.

  
You consider asking Agent Grizzlikov if it's serious, but then decide that you don't want to know. Enjoy your last few seconds as Schrodinger's Agent of S.H.U.S.H.. Besides, he seems incredibly uncomfortable already and you'd hate to make it worse for him.

  
It's enough for you to suffer.

  
Director Hooter's office is spacious, yes, quite possibly moreso than Steelbeak's, but it's all exclusively functional. There's a globe, world maps, shelves with books and more forms, no doubt, records, all kinds of things. Also, you're sure these things combined didn't cost as much as the carpet in Steelbeak's office. Not to mention, the view isn't quite as nice.

  
"Sir", you stand still. Saluting isn't really necessary and you're thankful for remembering that in the nick of time. Grizzlikov stands next to Hooter's desk. The tallest stack of papers almost reaches the agent's height. "You wanted to see me?"

  
Director Hooter smiles at you. "Agent 77, it's good to see you again. So you have recovered from your sickness?"

  
He doesn't look like someone who's about to fire you for gross insubordination and associating with the enemy.

  
"Of course. I just told Agent Grizzlikov about how I won't succumb to a little cold - not when there's still paperwork to do." You give the Director a polite smile. The agent simply nods.

  
"That's good, good. Very good. I'm sorry for having you called here so abruptly, but while you were sick yesterday, F.O.W.L. pulled a heist at the museum."

  
You feel yourself break out in cold sweat and suddenly miss the Eggmen's visors. "Oh?"

  
"In broad daylight", Agent Grizzlikov adds. He sounds angry. "They have no shame."

  
"What did they steal?" you hear yourself asking. Fortunately, your voice sounds very calm.

  
"A collage of blueprints from an old master." Director Hooter sighs. "It's rumored to contain a hidden blueprint to a weapon, even. Regardless, it's a priceless treasure, lost to F.O.W.L.."

  
You remember the missions you've been sent on thus far - that is to say, none. Your hands folded behind your back, you mentally make sure that your posture is good and you're standing nice and straight. "And what would you like me to do about that?"

  
"Oh, nothing about that in particular", Director Hooter says quickly. "It's just that their boldness made me think about your suggestion."

  
Oh no.

  
"No", Agent Grizzlikov interrupts him.

  
"Yes. Perhaps Agent 77 had a point. S.H.U.S.H. may be getting a little bit rusty. We cannot hope to keep up with F.O.W.L. as is. So perhaps we _should_ take a page out of their book. Send an agent to infiltrate their ranks as a lowly Eggman and send us reports about their planned heists and crimes so we can foil them more efficiently."

  
"Is much too dangerous."

  
"I have faith in our agents. Don't you?"

  
"She is much too young and inexperienced."

  
"Which might be a good thing! She hasn't been with S.H.U.S.H. for very long. A lot of our older agents have trouble adapting to situations that require more creativity and thinking on their feet. But with a young agent, this shouldn't be a problem."

  
Agent Grizzlikov snarls, but turns away.

  
You watch the two of them argue, spellbound.

  
"Since it was your idea, Agent 77, I felt it only right to ask you if you wanted to give it a try. I know we turned you down rather harshly the first time, but I see now that I was judging you rather hastily."

  
You gulp. You should say no. All logic dictates that you say no. You tried it before and it failed spectacularly. You escaped by the breadth of a feather, really. But then you think back to the stale coffee, the crowded halls, the monotone greys and blacks and the paperwork. God, the paperwork.

  
Steelbeak's voice is in your head again, sing-songing _"We don't have to do mountains of paperwork for every step we take"._

  
You shudder.

  
As long as you can avoid seeing him, you should be fine, right? You know what you did wrong last time, so so long as you play it cool now, keep your ego in check and avoid Steelbeak at all cost, in case he might recognize your voice, you should be good to go. You've already familiarized yourself with the layout of the base and have a basic idea of its layout and the going-ons there.

  
Plus, it's a great way to get out of paper hell.

  
So you head over to Director Hooter's desk and give him your brightest smile.

  
"Director Hooter. I am the agent for the job."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters just keep getting longer, help


	4. Role of Honour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "what are you doing here" chapter

_English feather_.

  
You finally have a name to put to the smell.

  
There was only so much of Steelbeak grinning that you could take, so after tearing down the wanted poster for F.O.W.L.'s chief agent, whose hands you can still feel on and in your body if you focus, in the S.H.U.S.H. coffee lounge and getting a lot of weird looks for it, you left the building and sought shelter in a mall that was conveniently just around the corner. 

  
Without really thinking, your legs carried you to the perfume section and when you came to, you were standing in front of the colognes. 

  
You check the price tag and suck in some air that smells, frankly disturbing. A cacophony of 50 different colognes and perfumes from just this section alone assaults your palate and you flee.

  
Grizzlikov insisted you finish your paperwork before being handed the information provided by Agent Appeal. The reports you'd already studied, but hadn't told your superiors about. Since it was all official now, you had more things to sign and jot down. This was now knowledge you were allowed, no, supposed to have.

  
Suddenly, things were official.

  
If you got caught now, you couldn't bring the excuse that you were just a greenhorn trying to prove yourself.

  
Well, you are still going to, but it'd be a lie now.

  
Though it was nice to know there was now a safety net. If a heist went pear-shaped, your superiors would bail you out of police custody, if you died you'd go down as a martyr rather than some reckless youth and you had a small communicator to get in touch with your superiors with. In a way, your little stunt had given you the experience you needed and now you were given the tools to succeed. 

  
After filling out your papers in the lounge, because your place at the table had been occupied by someone else when you returned from Director Hooter's office, you had enough of the wanted poster's smug grin.

  
Now you were walking around the streets of St. Canard. The sky was grey, it would probably start raining soon. You were undecided on whether the weather fit your mood or not. On one hand, this was great, it was exactly what you'd wanted on a silver platter, sure to do great for your career and everything you'd ever dreamed about. On the other hand, you had to be really careful or you'd be dead meat. Or at the least forced to consider Steelbeak's offer in earnest and hope he'd let you get away with that again. Would that truly be so bad? You don't want to think about it, you realize.

  
F.O.W.L. is evil. S.H.U.S.H. is good. You are on the side of good. Sure, you made mistakes, but who hasn't? You can still do good. Do better. You can repent for your sins by bringing about the downfall of the Fiendish Organization. That oughta redeem you.

  
What about Steelbeak though?

  
That was a dumb crush and a once in a lifetime mistake you weren't going to repeat, you assure yourself. You really don't want to think about that now. You have important business to mentally prepare yourself for, you can't spare even a second to think about the man whose essence you can still feel dripping out of you, though that's probably just your mind playing tricks on you, especially considering you have no plans of seeing him ever again.

  
Easy.

  
You freeze when you see a shock of yellow against the various greys of near-rainy St. Canard.

  
Nope, you weren't wrong. It's an Eggman.

  
You flip the coat of your jacket up and stare at your feet, so he doesn't feel watched. He doesn't even spare you a glance as he steps into what you always thought to be yet another office building.

  
Looking around, you realize that your little walk took you all the way to one of the worse neighborhoods of the city, with the harbor just around the corner. So either F.O.W.L. has some business in one of those low-profile office buildings that only house third-class law firms and unsuccessful investment bankers or, and the thought alone makes your feathers things, this is the Archive.

  
The place of legend, where even the enemy stores their paperwork. The files, stolen goods, so much incriminating data. S.H.U.S.H. has been looking for it for years. Eve Agent Appeal never turned anything up about it. Could it be, could it really be that you stumbled upon it by pure chance? If there ever was a sign telling you to dress up like an Eggman, this was it.

  
You don't want to alarm S.H.U.S.H. right now, because you could be wrong and you don't doubt that unexpected visitors will cause the place to stop being the Archive before you can blink. They are very careful like that. Still, hiding one of their most important locations in plain sight. You have to admire their boldness.  
You take a brief note so you don't forget where the place is, seeing how it is ridiculously plain-looking in a street of equally uninteresting buildings, one more boring than the next.

  
Since you know where to find an Eggman uniform, you return to the mountain base and steal another one. This time, you pick a size larger, just to really go for that gender neutral look. No more curves and shapely silhouettes to catch the gaze of superior agents, no. Rolling up the pants just right and then shoving them into the boots and no one can even tell it's a size too big.

  
Content, you pack up, thank the stars for how empty this locker room usually is and that you don't know what time would be considered Eggman rush hour, and then get back to the city. Since it's nighttime when you make it back to St. Canard, you stash the uniform away and decide to pay the Archive a visit on the next day.

*

That's what you end up doing. It's still rainy and there's the occasional raindrop running down your yellow suit, but since it's not as tight, it's better ventilated and you feel less like melting in it. Very few people are out and nobody cares about a lonely Eggman walking down the street. Well, it helped that you only changed in a subway station near the office building. You wouldn't want to walk around the city in that get-up on a workday, that's like an invitation for Darkwing Duck to come by and beat you up.  
There's a tired-looking receptionist on the ground floor, but she pays you absolutely no mind, so you step into the elevator. After looking around the cabin for clues, you find that the button for the second basement floor is kind of dull. Like it's been touched a lot of times.

  
Without really thinking, you push it and stand very still as the elevator jerks in movements that are equal parts slow and abrupt down. When it dings to inform you of your arrival, you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd held.

  
When the door open, you have a look around with your beak open.

  
The room you're in is about ten times larger than the layout for the office building above you, so it stretches on below the neighboring buildings as well. There is no natural sunlight down here, which is great for conservation purposes. The air is a bit stuffy, but cool, which suggests air conditioning. Dark carpets on the ground and wall swallow all unnecessary sound. Looking around, you realize there's cameras on the ceiling, so you hurry to get out of the elevator, which stops in the center of the massive hall rather than a wall, and walk around the endless rows that are filled with folders, binders and stacks of papers. Paging through a few of them. Mission reports, information about items, stolen or not, whereabouts of people. You try to figure out the system behind their order, while also moving around enough to seem busy.

  
Just don't attract any attention, you keep telling yourself, while trying to bite back the biggest grin of your life. This is amazing.

  
There isn't much going on here. You spot maybe two Eggmen also struggling with the system, but don't talk to them. At one point, someone in a suit and without the mask walks past you, carrying a binder. You stop in your tracks to salute, but the agent pays you no mind and on you go.

  
You decide that this place is amazing and if you could, you'd spend your entire life down here. Seeing how plain white doors go off from most of the walls, it's even larger than you initially thought.

  
The door you tried was locked, however and you don't feel the need to try all the other ones. Not when there's this many cameras overhead. You don't know where the signal goes, but you doubt that whoever's guarding the archive would take kindly to your messing around.

  
Besides, you're perfectly happy to just look through the dustiest folders you can find.

  
Oh, there's one about Agent Grizzlikov. That's a little unsettling, but it would make sense for them to have intel on the chief agent of their greatest rival.

  
Seeing how the magnitude of their mountain base left you feeling small and insignificant, looking around their archive, you suddenly realize that yes, F.O.W.L. _is_ a global organization with many members, lots of funding and lots of info. A true goliath. Maybe S.H.U.S.H. doesn't stand a chance of taking them down at all. They are a global player, true, but you feel that when it comes to resources, F.O.W.L. might just have them beat. Considering how well they seem to pay their agents.

  
"What're you doin' here?"

  
You jolt, put the folder down and salute. "I was tasked with retreiving this folder by Agent-"

  
"No, I mean, what're _you_ doin' here?"

  
It takes you a second to realize who's looking at you, it's dimly lit, you're wearing a visor, you're high on endorphins from your discovery. Anyway, it's Steelbeak. You're gonna die.

  
"Wh- whatever do you mean?", you try playing dumb. Your voice only wavers a little and you decide to be proud of that.

  
He makes that same noise he'd made during the interrogation two days ago and grabs you by the arm. You hurriedly stuff the Grizzlikov file back into the shelf before being dragged along. He opens one of the white doors that was obviously unlocked and hurls you into the room behind it. For a second you fear for your life, then the door shuts and you realize the two of you are in a broom closet. Bare, grey walls, bare lightbulb, a familiar aesthetic.

  
You reflexively back into the three bare bords that serve as shelf for various cleaning supplies in the back of the very tiny room. Your foot gets stuck in a bucket and you stop, just staring pleadingly up at Steelbeak, who has, once again, cornered you in a room and is blocking the door. And he can't even see your pleading face, due to the visor being in the way.

  
He makes quick work of that problem though, by removing your helmet. Only to then sigh at you.

  
"Chickpea, what're you doin' here?"

  
"I've um. What are _you_ doing here?", you try to flip the script on him, but he takes your accusing finger and pushes your hand down.

  
"It doesn't work like that. I'm here to check on something. How'd you even find this place?"

  
You consider telling him about your incredible deductive reasoning skills, but then realize he's still holding your hand and you briefly flash back to the dent he made in the egg car yesterday. "I followed an Eggman I happened upon in the street", you admit.

  
That still required some level of deductive reasoning, you decide.

  
A look flickers across his face that's telling you that in the very near future, an Eggman somewhere is going to suffer. You hope it won't be you.

  
"Why are we even in here?", you hurry to ask before he has the chance to ask you another question. He lets you pull your hand out of his grasp and you use your newfound freedom to pull the bucket off your boot.

  
"So you didn't see the cameras? That's a bit disappointing. I expected more from S.H.U.S.H.'s top agent." He pokes the top of your beak and you pull your head away.  
"I did see them. I just didn't think you weren't allowed to talk to Eggmen."

  
"Look. You can't be too careful. Besides, I'm really doing you a favor here." He shakes his head. You briefly watch the way his comb moves, but force yourself to focus.  
"How did you even recognize me?", you pout instead.

  
"Babe, you underestimate me." He laughs softly and then his hands are on your hips again, pulling you closer to him. You huff, but don't resist.  
"But I'm guessing you're not here for my generous offer, are you?"

  
You try muttering into his broad chest, but he grabs the top of your head and yanks it back rather roughly. You're sure you've just lost a couple feathers.

  
"What was that?"

  
"I couldn't get enough of the thrill of being undercover and when I saw that Eggman yesterday, I just had to follow him to find out where he was going." It's not the whole truth, but it's not a whole lie, either. So it should work. Sure, your conscience is screaming, but other than that, you're keeping remarkably cool, you think.

  
Steelbeak squints at you, then shakes his head. "Or, lemme guess, Hooty changed his mind and actually sent you this time."

  
You press your beak firmly together.

  
"Well, that's just some rotten luck you got there." 

  
"Look, I-"

  
You are interrupted when the door flies open and you and Steelbeak are face to face with Ammonia Pine. His hands on your head and hips, respectively and him hunched over you, like a bird of prey, ready to strike. You, a poor, helmless Eggman, like a deer caught in the headlights.

  
And her, her expression going from surprised to confused to angry.

  
"What are _you_ doing here?", she spits and you can only imagine who she's talking about. 

  
Steelbeak's grip on you briefly tightens. Is he nervous? You certainly sense some friction.

  
"This is a place of cleaning, not to get swept up in whatever dirty business you're planning on-" she begins talking herself into a frenzy, but Steelbeak lets go of you to take a step toward her.

  
"Ammonia, hey. It's been a hot minute. What're you up to? Still uh, cleaning?"

  
She whacks him with a broom and you're momentarily taken aback.

  
"No, you're absolutely right, babe, we're gonna", he beckons you, so you put your helmet back on and dive under his arm, out of the broom closet, "we're just gonna take that elsewhere. Good call."

  
She snarls like a feral animal and Steelbeak hurriedly drags you to the elevator. It also has one of those nifty thumb print scanners, you realize and then you go to one of the upper levels, which also has offices, though they're a lot more plain and impersonal than the ones in the mountain base.

  
He piles you into one of them and slams the door shut, before immediately turning to a mirror in the corner to check the state of his suit.

  
You hesitate for a moment before sitting down on a ridiculously comfortable red leather couch and watch him brush his fingers over his comb and tug on his bow tie for a good five minutes. There's a wet stain on the top of his white suit and you can tell that he knows and it's driving him up the wall.

  
After a moment of wondering whether you should or not, you finally decide to ask: "What was that all about?"

  
"Oh, that's Ammonia."

  
"I know who she is", you offer gently. As to not rile him up any further. You take off your helmet and put it back down on the ground between your feet, so he can see your nonthreatening expression, should he choose to look your way.

  
He doesn't, just huffs and tugs on his bow tie some more before finally taking a switch comb out of his suit and combing his comb in earnest.

  
"The things I do for you", he grumbles. "You know people are gonna think I'm making out with Eggmen in broom closets now."

  
You have half a mind to ask him _why_ he'd go to such lengths for you to begin with, but decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Probably a bonus for stealing agents from S.H.U.S.H. or something stupid. "Well, I appreciate that very much. Thank you."

  
He doesn't even look at you. He's turned to polishing his beak with a white cloth now. You're willing to bet his suit is stuffed with items to help him feed his vanity. And maybe a gun or two.

  
"Then again, chances are, no one's gonna believe her. She's basically obsessed with me ever since I asked her to help me out with a coupla bank heists."  
You just nod in quiet acknowledgement.

  
"They're gonna think she's spreadin' lies to ruin my reputation." Finally satisfied he turns around and beams at you. His freshly polished beak is literally beaming. "How do I look?"

  
"Dangerously suave", you quote the wanted poster with a smile.

  
Satisfied by that response, he takes residence on the couch next to you. An arm stretched out on the backrest, all but curled around your shoulder. You take the cue and nestle against him.

  
"I hate her", he points out. "Working with her was the worst and then she reported me to High Command. I almost lost my standing with F.O.W.L.."

  
You take a mental note to look into that incident. Because for as much as you want to know what happened, you also don't want to ask him. Maybe just turn to some of the Eggmen. You heard good things about the F.O.W.L. rumor mill. Instead, you just keep nodding along to placate him. It works insofar as that his hand moves to the top of your head again and he rubs it for a bit. While you're not a cat, you have to appreciate that it feels nice.

  
And you were going to not see him again. Idiot.

  
While not nearly as nervous as two days ago when you were convinced he was going to kill you - and while still not entirely convinced that he won't right now - you feel comfortable around him. He knows about you and he dragged you out of trouble before. You should be grateful for that, you find. Plus, there continues to be that warm and fuzzy feeling, like you ingested a sack of feathers and they're floating around inside of you, tickling your stomach lining, when you lean into him like you are doing right now.  
"Say", he begins and you look up at him. "You got a wire?"

  
"No. Just a communicator", you admit plainly.

  
"They sent you to foil our dastardly schemes, didn't they?"

  
"Pretty much."

  
"Infiltrate and report so S.H.U.S.H. can swoop in and save the day?"

  
"You got it." Wait, does telling him about this mean you're double crossing S.H.U.S.H.? You're not sure if you want that. But his fingers are ghosting right over the part of your skull where your headaches usually take residence in and it feels so good.

  
He's quiet for a moment before a wicked grin splits his beak.

  
"I think I got an idea on how we're both gonna get what we want then."

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is my first work, all feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.


End file.
